Throbbing Thursday - Tales of A Toyboy Part II *Warning* *Graphic Erotica*

Thank you for your patience, but here at last:

Tales of a Toyboy: The Climax

Part 1 HERE

The heat rose, starting low and rapidly racing up her body like wild fire. As her pulse rate increased so too did her undulations beneath him. He quickly responded by grabbing her wrists and pinning them above her head to still the rapid movement. "It will be over before we even begin if you continue that."

Gently keeping both arms crossed high in a single-handed strong grip, he slowly undid the first button on her blouse. Then the next, and the next. A trail of light, grazing kisses followed his fingertips' path as he revealed pale skin. She quivered under his soft touch, and moaned as he raised himself up to pull the shirt off his own torso. A tiny smirk was suppressed, as the term fresh meat flashed through her mind upon gazing at his sculptured, youthful body. The thought soon fled as his lips possessed hers once more. This time his kisses were hard and demanding, his tongue invaded her supplicant mouth thrusting in rhythm with her once more moving hips. He let go of her wrists and she allowed herself a moment as her hands roamed over the bare skin of his strong, firm back.

Again he went to slow her movement, and take control. MM was unused to being the submissive one and as quickly as she thought "Bugger this", with a quick flip threw him over onto the edge of the bed and straddled his dangling legs. "Now it is my turn."

The boyishly charming grin flashed across his face once more, and he lay back, happy to surrender control to this captivatingly naughty older woman. She slowly trailed her fingernails over his bare, bald chest. Pink furrows rose up around his nipples leaving a map of passion where she scoured slightly deeper. Her fingers dropped to his belt and she deftly undid it and the fly of his suit pants. With one swift movement she pulled them around his ankles, taking his designer briefs with them. On her knees she gazed up onto the clearly aroused evidence of his need. Smiling wickedly, she licked her dry lips. the Toy Boy  gasped audibly. She removed her unbuttoned shirt, deftly undid her bra, dropping both to the floor, and then she stood, slowly unbuttoning the fastening of her own pants. She slid them and her underwear off, and kicked them aside and standing with legs spread, high heels, belt and stockings enticingly intact, she surveyed the look of unbound lust on his face and grinned. "Like what you see?" she wolfishly asked. Leaving his pants secured around his ankles she ran her hands up the side of his legs and then threw one silk-clad leg over his hip.

Her body hovered inches from his groin, tormentingly close, but not yet touching. The Toy Boy moaned and thrust the evidence of his arousal towards the apex of her suspender-clad thighs. She lingered, tantalisingly out of reach, relishing the upper hand in this game of procreation. Her warm moist hand grasped him, and MM allowed her dextrous fingers to slide up and down the throbbing shaft, she hesitated a moment to take the time to visually devour this more than satisfactory example of youthful male virility. A clear drop of fluid oozed over the tip and slid down the side into the loosely clenched palm enclosing him. Another groan escaped his parched lips. Like a man dying of thirst he licked them and arched upwards to drink of her. She leant forward to allow him the briefest of tastes before resuming her close perusal of his shaft.



Okay - now the question is, do you want me to go on or is it becoming a bit too personal for most? Come back and comment, and I'll edit and finish it if you wish. Comment, people, let me know your desires...

I'm also adding the Flog Yo Blog link. Might as well. Oh, pssst... I did start this on Thursday but then got caught up at work and forgot to post it. Whoops.

Power and the Passion... Otherwise Known as Passionate or Piss-Weak?

Discussing recent and not so recent events with an old friend evolved into an interesting discussion on personalities. The discussion went something like this:

OGF(Old Good Friend): "You need to realise you are a strong, passionate, highly capable women. And because you are honest and out there you invoke a strong reaction in others."
MM: "You mean I'm a demanding, confrontational bitch who scares the shit out of people!" *nervous titter*
OGF: "Oh, get off the self-pity wagon, that is not what I said at all. Look, we've been friends for over 25 years and I've watched the people around you, and you do, you inspire a lot of people to want to be like you. And because of that jealousy and envy enter into the equation."
MM: "Come on, who the hell would want my life? Look at it, it ain't exactly a bed of roses."
OGF: "Listen to me, it is NOT your life they want, it is the passion with which you live it, and the strength you fight adversity with."
MM: "Yeah right, how many times have you seen me fall into a sobbing mess on the floor?"
OGF: "I know that, and you know that, but there are many out there who do not. And even those that do, see you pick yourself up and keep on going. All close to you realise you are not this hard-arse some think you are, and are a real softy on the inside. But I am saying those who look at you with this type of obsession see only the vibrant, out-there persona and want to emanate you, and when they cannot then those strong feelings make them want to destroy you, make you feel failure like they do."
MM: "Well, they nearly succeeded this time. You mean those who do not make or are ejected from the inner sanctum wish to demolish it."
OGF: "Yeah."
MM: "Wow. Deep. Fringe dwellers?"
OGF: *laughing* "Yeah. Fringe dwellers."

Now there was a lot more to this conversation obviously, and it was made clear that the FD's OGF referred to were the wounded puppies/nutter types I tend to pick up along the way. Those who are insecure and unhappy with who they are, and feel the need to either become someone else or bitch about those who do change their lives whilst they wallow happily in their self pitying poor me attitudes. Jealousy, pure and simple.


 So, I guess my question to all of you out there is this. When you are no longer how do you want to be remembered? As a passionate, somewhat controversial person, about whom conversations still revolve over time (I know I have dearly missed friends who still provoke the "Remember when she/he..." type comments), or do you want to rate the "Yeah, she/he was nice wasn't she/he..." quiet compliment?